Happy Place

In case you don’t already know, the rules are different when you have enough money.

My girlfriend tells people I’m an “Elite Concierge.” It’s a title she made up not knowing exactly what I do, but it does sound about right. You see, having tons of money, fame, or influence changes the way you live. I come from a rich family and learned this at a young age. My friends and I made a ton of mischief when we were young but never got into much trouble. As we grew up, the closer we got to trouble the better I got at getting out of it. Mom and dad’s money helped, at first, but then I’d be in trouble with them. So, I had to get better.

Eventually, all my friends knew to call me when they were in trouble. It started with covering for them when they’d sneak out. Then I became the guy who could help you erase the evidence of your house party. Of course, I had to start charging as word of mouth spread and I was starting to be busy with work. The needs escalated and with them the price. It was mainly cleaning up house parties, until one day that meant making a dead body disappear.

Soon after that I was asked to kill someone for the first time. A friend of mine had an estranged sister, but one day she came back, bruised and bleeding. Her husband had some government job so they knew the authorities wouldn’t help. They came to me instead.

Of course, back then I was nervous. Compared to the man I am today; I’d even say I was a bit sloppy. Nonetheless, I got away with it. That’s where I became an assassin. I’m not some bloodthirsty murderer, though. I only take jobs where there’s a good reason. I’m a good judge of character and read people quite well.

Years have passed since the first time. Now, I’m a pro with my own office and everything. I use real estate as a cover. This way everything about me and my business seems legitimate enough to avoid questions. The job pays well, incredibly well, but it does have its drawbacks. There’s a weight you can’t take off. It’s heavy on the soul. It is difficult not to think about all the lives I’ve ended and changed. Not to mention, the thought that the cops are on the other side of every door.

That’s why I saw a therapist for a while. I presented myself as if my tales were all in the past, but sometimes I was talking about a life I’d taken on my way in. I was vague enough that nothing in the news ever sounded like one of my stories. The therapist taught me to replace my bad memories, to counter them when they pop up.

That’s why we came up with my happy place. I go there when I need to cool off, If I need a second to think, etc.

My parents have this wonderful summer home on the lake. The property is massive. We own a mansion up on a hill with a huge yard. There’s a path that goes from the house, down the yard, through the woods, and right up to the lake. On the other edge of the property is a fence that surrounds a neighboring pear orchard. On the corner is a high cliff big enough for a picnic. I have a bench set up so I can sit with my back to the fence and watch the sunset on the lake below. When the sun and the wind are right you can smell the sweet scent of the pears on the breeze. It’s magical, really.

I can imagine that scene and drift away into it. Helps me snap out of crisis or shake off the ghosts of my past or just get through the day.

I’ll walk you through a day in my life for some examples.

It is important to have a big breakfast, no matter what you do. It helps you stay focused and be productive throughout the day. So, I get up early every day to make breakfast. I check my planner for meetings and what jobs I have scheduled for the day. This particular day I have a client who’s paying extra because they want the job done immediately. Not easy to guarantee, but I’ll manage.

The commute sucks, I am trapped both in a sea of machines and my thoughts. This is the perfect time for my past to haunt me. Faces of those I’ve slain, their families on the news. It’s not my fault. I’m just doing my job. The visions can’t follow me to my happy place. I close my eyes and rest my head back against the seat. I draw forth the image in my mind.

The beautiful overlook where you could see the whole lake. I sit on my bench and admire it. I faintly smell the sweetness in the air. I resign into this perfect thought.

HONK!!!!!!

Reality comes blaring back into focus with the thanks of some impatient driver who wanted to move forward a few feet. Thankfully, my exit is close and I make it to my meeting with a few minutes to spare.

This morning’s client is none other than... Just kidding, I can’t tell you who she is. Let’s just call her Mrs. Famous-person.

She enters my office wearing a large hat and huge sunglasses. They hide her face well but still show her wealth. Her stunning physique is quite obvious under her skin-tight, white sundress.

“Good morning, Mrs. Famous-person. Have a seat.” I greet her while standing behind my desk. “Did you bring the envelope?”

“I did.” She nods. “I love the real estate office cover. I always thought conversations like this had to take place in shady brick buildings and dive bars.” She sets down an envelope. With it is a photo of a man. Looks like a profile picture she printed. I slide the envelope into my desk drawer.

“Too many movies.” I joke. “Let’s begin with your goals.”

“One of our gardeners peeped in my window and I want him gone,” she tells me.

“Why do you need me? Why not just fire him?” I ask.

"It’s more complicated than that,” she says sternly.

“Complicated how?” I ask.

"My husband wasn’t home when he peeped, but I wasn’t alone,” she whispers.

“So, you’re having an affair and this guy has to pay for it?”

“At first it was fine. He kept his secret and he kept his job, but now he wants more.”

“Blackmail?”

She nods then turns her head aside. Even her huge sunglasses don’t hide the shame on her face.

“I know how this sort of thing goes. He’ll never stop asking for more and eventually, my secret will be out, anyway. I’ve already cut things off with the other man, but I see no other way to end this blackmail without being exposed.” She can’t look at me as she speaks. Her remorse is as real as I’ve seen.

“I understand. You’re looking to have this done today, correct?”

“Yes, he expects a huge cash payment at the end of his shift. I wouldn’t even be able to get the amount of cash he wants this fast.” she’s holding back sobs as she speaks through a tissue.

"You can’t go home until later,” I state plainly. “I'm going to need you to help me know the lay of the property, security, anyone else on the grounds, and where they might be. Can you help me with that?”

“Mhm.” She nods as she wipes tears from her eyes. I take notes on who else works on the property, layout, the gate codes, security systems, etc. She is very helpful, despite her emotions. I draw up a map of the property that she confirms.

“This is in my hands now,” I assure her as I escort her to the door.

The estate of Mr. And Mrs. Famous-person is in the middle of nowhere. I have to park on the road a few miles away to avoid security cameras. I change into hiking boots and gear. I have to trek to the house carrying all this to look the part in case I run into anyone out here.

When the high brick wall surrounding the property comes into view, I climb a nearby tree and pull out my binoculars.

I see a man wearing green coveralls hosing down some flower bushes, dancing as he goes. Earbuds, probably wireless. No one else seems to be here. There’s a lone pickup truck in the driveway. Its rust and grime make it look out of place against the beautiful landscape and the gorgeous home. He’s all alone or so he thinks.

This is where it gets real. My stomach still ties in knots even though I’ve done this a hundred times. I've got to stay sharp or face serious consequences. Before I can move on the property I pause to take in a few deep breaths and I focus on the lake. I am swaying amongst blades of grass on the lawn. I am embraced by a cool breeze washing over me. With this, I am ready to head onto the property.

Quickly and quietly, I make my way to the gate on the back edge of the property. Mrs. Famous-person says there is no camera here. I enter the gate code and the door swings open. I slip through and follow the bushes that block the view of the camera. Came in handy with sneaking around on her husband, I bet.

By the time I make it to the edge of the bushes the gardener has gotten up on a ladder. He is pruning ivy next to a window. I survey the area to make sure I’m not in sight of any cameras. A quick nudge is all it takes to send his ladder crashing. I needn’t check closer. It’s ugly, he’s a goner.

I make my way back exactly as I came in. Down to my car and away.

I get about two miles away when I see a police blockade. Oh no. This is it. The client had second thoughts. Ratted me out. Threw me right under the bus and now I’m going to fry. Slow down. I can’t panic. Panic will tell them something’s up. It’s probably nothing. It’s probably my last drive. No, no. Happy place. The color of the leaves in the fall as they flutter past my bench. I watch the lake as the geese form their v and fly by.

I roll up to the blockade. A few officers raise their hands. I stop and one of them approaches my car. The officer approaching my car is old and mean-looking. I can sense the self-righteousness in the way he walks. He spits a disgusting black spit a few steps from my car. I roll the window down imagining the breeze filling the car to be carrying the sweet aroma of pears.

The officer puts his hands on my window and leans in real close. His breath is tobacco and rot.

“Got a call about an abandoned vehicle and some creeper in the woods. You see anything out of the ordinary?” His tongue sticks and clicks in his dry mouth as the words slowly make their way out.

“No, sir. I was just out for a hike.” I keep my heart steady as I lie to his face.

“No, you wasn’t,” he says back to me as he leans in closer. “But that’s ok. I can let you right on through for the right price.”

“Like a bribe?” I ask, astounded.

He whispers “In case you don’t already know, the rules are different when you have enough money.”